Disney land for the religious

So here's the thing. Israel is truly  amazing. This place in the world is unlike any other place I have ever seen. There's so much to say about life in this land, and as I've said previously I will need some time to process all that I've seen and heard before I can comment on it.

In the meantime something I feel like commenting on is visiting some of the Holy places.

Yesterday (April 24, 2017) we visited Jerusalem: Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane.

The garden is divided in two. One side, the garden next to the Church of All Nations (Church of the Agony) is open to the public, while across the road there is a private garden that you can book to visit.

We were lucky enough to have time in the private garden which was quiet and calm; compared to the other side, which was packed with people and crowded with tour buses.

Some of these places feel like disneyland for the religious. There are tour buses everywhere, people everywhere and everyone is rushing about and then lining up for the rides (access to the exact places someone a long time ago decided something holy happened). OR actual rides, see pictures attached.

Knowing this before you attempt to see these places is important. To not know this meaning being spiritually drained and disheartened when you arrive at this places. It is hard to find any sacred presence in these places because of the crowd and the loud busyness surrounding you.

But it is easy to find a different unexpected sacred when you visit these crowded places.

For me, I found the sacred in meeting other visitors. Smiling at people who are equally disenchanted with the crowd, or tired, or needing a little space from the crowds.

On the Mount of Olives I talked with some young girls from India. They wanted to know about Canada, so I showed them some pictures from home. They had to leave with their tour, but quickly brought their mom back to meet me.

In the Mosque in Hebron, we Christians had to wear blue robes that made us look like Hobbits. 

I noticed that some other visitors were amused by our dress and taking pictures, while trying to look like they weren't, so of course I smiled and waved.

They smiled back, a little embarrassed to be 'caught', but it was funny to me, because we've been doing the same thing when we've seen people dressed different from us.

We talked to people from all over the world as a result. And discovered we are all the same. The same things make us laugh, smile and even cry.

We were decending the steps from the Mount when a siren blared across Jerusalem, a minute to stop and remember the holocaust.  Everyone stopped, everyone stood quiet as the eerie wail echoed around us. It was a very sobering moment.

Getting time in silence in the private garden refilled my soul and is a highlight of this trip.  Yet my other highlights are talking to people.

Meeting people from all around our planet and laughing at our struggle to talk to each other. Meeting young girls and boys and sharing words and pictures with them.

Sure I can go to the Mount of Olives and ride a donkey or a camel, see the places Jesus walked, ate, cried, prayed and died, but if I forget to look at the faces around me and smile at the peole sharing these places I'm missing the point of all of it.

I'm just another cog in the pilgrim machine and I might as well have gone to disneyland.

Would the real Saint Anne please stand up

We're in Nazareth. There's so much to say and I can't put any of it into words.

But here's the one thing I can share- today we went to the ruins of Saint Anne's church. Saint Anne is Mary's mother - Jesus' grandmother.

This church is just outside Nazareth in the place where Mary is said to have been born and grew up.

While we where there a group of Ethiopian Christians arrived on a pilgrimage.  Our guide mentioned that for Ethiopian Christians St. Anne and this site are extremely Holy.

Why, he didn't know and my 5 minute Google search hasn't given me an answer either.

However, now that the day and my emotions have caught up with each other. I realize that standing in the ruins of that church was one of 'those' moments. Those unqualifible moments in time that are just not the same as other moments, but you can't quite explain why they're different.

Being on a tour with 11 other people also makes it difficult to be present for those moments because we have been pulled in many directions all day.

It was only after arriving at our hotel that all the parts of me have caught up and I sat down and felt all of the emotions of the day.

It'll take longer to process. It'll take long for me to really catch up to everything we talked about, learned about, heard about today.

I don't feel quite so out of place this evening - I feel like I'm listening and waiting. All day it's there's been conversation around me 'this part of the scripture happened here',  and 'it's believed by one group it happened here, and by this group over there'.

Did Jesus preach in that place? was it that mountain, or that one, the towns people threatened to toss him off of?

Did Mary grow up here? Have the vision from the angel there?

Did the real mother of Mary live and die where this church stands?

Does it matter?

In this place it both does and doesn't. 

For me, I just want the space and the wind in the trees and the time to sit, listen and wait for the real Saint Anne to please stand up.

Go back to your own country, motherf*cker

I love it here, don't get me wrong. Yesterday was one of those days tho where I couldn't help but focus on the bad stuff - which isn't how I usually roll.

We had a good day walking the promenade from Tel Aviv to old Jaffa and seeing the old city and port - a place that's been inhabited for millennia. 

We saw st. Peter's church, the ruins of a Canaanite temple, some lovely cats prowling through the park. We visited the flea market and all the crazy awesome tourist shops.

Yet through it all my mind stayed focused on one line. One sentence said to me on the beach the day before. 'Go back to your country, motherf cker.'

We'd been approached by a homeless man asking for change in hebrew, but the intent was clear, we had none and say so. As the man shuffled off he muttered that line.

It's possible that's the only words he's picked up in English and might not even know the full meaning, but I doubt it. He knew what he was saying.  And it stuck with me.

I am homesick, I miss my family and my cats and knowing where I fit into my surroundings. Here, I am a fish out of water. I feel out of place, pale and white, surrounded by olive, deep, rich skin tones. I don't know the language and people here have learned English to accommodate people like me -to make it easier for me to be here. Is that fair?

What have I done to reciprocate?  Yesterday it didn't feel like much.

There have been people here genuinely interested and happy to see people from other countries - yesterday in a shop a man was asking us all about snow and rain in Canada.

He was very curious and I'd wished I'd brought along my tablet with pictures of Canada on it to show him.

Last evening as we met up with our tour, our guide said to us he was going to show us the holy land as it is for the people living here and those who come here - because the holy land is for everyone.

That sure feels a lot more welcoming that the man on the beach. I wonder if I can hang on tighter to those words, instead of the others that made me want to run to the nearest plane and take off. 

We leave Tel Aviv today, heading to Nazareth for a couple of days. I expect them to be intense as we learn to travel as a group and leave a city that dispite some of my grumpy thoughts as begun to feel like home.

A very white Canadian on a beach in Israel

Our first full day in Tel Aviv is almost over. It's been a great day. We went to the beach - I swam in the Mediterranean Sea!  The water was beautiful and refreshing.

The beach was busy, lots of people and families enjoying the sunshine, passover lasts one more day and I'm making some assumptions about it - like no school: there were lots of kids at the beach. Time off work: there's some building under construction all around us, but no one working.

At the Am/Pm -yup they have those here, there were a number of shelves covered over in sheets with signs on them. The signs are all in Hebrew of course, but we made the assumption that they are they cover the foods not to be eaten during passover.

At the beach we heard lots of different languages, there is people from all over the world speaking in languages I don't even recognize.  But there's somethings that don't need a common language to understand.

Near to where we were sitting was a group of men, I think speaking Hebrew or Arabic. They had a dog with them and this dog was having a great time digging in the sand.

A family walked by with a little puppy, the men's dog wanted to play and the puppy wasn't super into it, but one of the men scooped up the puppy and cuddled it like a little baby. He brought it over to his friends and they spent the next few minutes all cuddling the puppy.

So picture it a group of pretty buff (easy on the eyes, for sure) men cooing and cuddling an adorable puppy- they were completely in love with it and did not mind showing it. The family laughed and smiled warmly  while chatting with them.

Then they went on there way down the beach. Didn't matter what language anyone spoke, everyone understood- puppies are awesome.

Later I went swimming, while I was venturing into the water - which was brisk, but not as cold as the Pacific - some other young women and friends were also going out for a swim.

It didn't matter that we didn't  speak each other's language everyone understands the words and gestures for 'it's cold, but amazing.'

Didn't matter that I didn't know the language the guys were speaking - there's no mistaking a group of guys shouting at each other that their balls are crawling up to their hearts to get warm. It's a universal kind of thing.

The beach here is beautiful and everyone was there to relax and enjoy themselves.  I couldn't help but think there are parts of Israel that are and will be very different from this experience and I wonder if I will feel guilty later on.

I'm very aware of my place of privilege right now - a couple of days at the beach, a very nice hotel costing us double what our bnb was, but we can afford it, we can pay for the convenience of not having to hunt around for the best deal while exhausted and in a very foreign place. Not ideal, to be sure, but not horrible either.

I think that what I'm experiencing here in Tel Aviv is one side of Israel. I love it, I really really do. What will I think when I see other sides?

Welcome to Tel Aviv.

Well, I've been awake for almost 24 hours.... I'm not sure how I'm managing it. But we're here, in Tel Aviv, and so far it has been an absolute adventure.

The plane was very long and very very boring, but flying over London at 3 am and seeing it all lit up was pretty cool.

Tel Aviv is hot and humid. We decided to take the train from the airport and then a bus or taxi to the bnb.

Funny thing - all the signs  are in Hebrew. So we somehow missed our train stop and almost ended up in the yard for sleeping trains. (There's a word for it but I can't find it in my exhausted brain). The most typical of lame tourist moves - we needed to be rescued from a train no longer running.

Thankfully even people who don't speak English well,  speak it better than my Hebrew - I know 4 or 5 words tops. Which made conversations with our taxi driver next to impossible. But with the help of another driver we got  it sorted and got on the way... then I phoned our bnb only to find out that it was cancelled (due to a flood in the apartment) I NEVER GOT THE CANCELLATION EMAIL FROM AIRBNB!! (Insert rant here)
So I'll be sorting out that when I get home.

However the bnb host was super friendly and offered us tea and said he'd help us find a place or even let us sleep on his couch - I may never meet his man but I love love love him.

Did I mention I'm pushing 24 hours with no sleep?

So between Google translate and a random passer yelled at by our driver-by we manged to tell our taxi driver to take us to the hotel where we're meeting our tour on Tuesday and begged very very politely for a room for tonight and Monday. 

Victor at the front test is my new favorite person - I love him so very very much because he got us a room and I've had no sleep in 24 hours.

So we're really and truly here. We've stopped moving while we wait for check in time. The beach is one street away... but we haven't seen it yet... one street is just too far right now.

Our arrival has been an adventure and I think the only thing that's kept me from breaking down into tears is the absolute kindness of everyone we've crossed paths with.

And for that I am so so grateful. Also HAPPY FREAKING EASTER FROM THE HOLY LAND!

...I need a shower so bad...

I knit so I don't unravel. Part 2

In September of 2016, myself and a number of others from my place of work - Mt. Seymour United Church - attending training to be Mental Health Peer Support Facilitators. We attended this Training with Sanctuary Mental Health Ministries.

I’m not a councillor, I’m not a therapist. What’s worked for me isn’t necessarily going to work for others.

I don’t have any answers, but I do know my own story and parts of it will match with others and we can understand each other. We can know we’re not alone.

That's what peer support is - creating a space that is safe and supportive so we can know we're not alone.

I am pleased that I will be a part of this, I know it will be good for me and I do hope that it will be good for others.

I knit so I don't unravel. part 1

I've been musing on how to share this part of my life for quite awhile now. Talking about Mental Health is always pretty loaded. But there's a lot of work being done in the world to reduce the stigma around mental health and more and more people are talking about it, openly. 

We don't shy away from talking about how a broken bone or a physical illness affects our lives, but we often do when it's a mental illness. 

It's very, very, very scary for me to type this story. But it's also time. Time for me to share the healing and support I've found as I dance with Depression and Anxiety. 

Time, because I'm in a strong and healthy place (currently). Time, because the sun is shining today and I feel good. Maybe that will change tomorrow, but by then it will be to late - this will be published and out in the world. 

People often tease me a little because I knit A LOT. I don't mind, but I do want you to know why I do. 

I learned to knit on the advice of my therapist. 

Yup, therapist.

I've been seeing this particular therapist for the past 2 years. I've been in various styles of therapy over the course of my life. Different people at different times have walked with me as I walk with depression,  anxiety and a fun new friend - OCD.

Accckkkkk! I just said two super scary loaded words out loud. (We'll not 'out loud' out loud, but you know what I mean).

Depression and anxiety have been dance partners pretty much my whole life.

OCD - that's new.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder comes in a variety of colours and flavors. We're pretty familiar with the ones that are flashy and make for good character traits in movies - washing hands 100s of times a day, flicking light switches on and off a certain number of times, doing the same with door locks.

But then there's the quieter OCD cousins ICD - Impulse Control Disorder - they carry a lot more stigma and have very long complicated names:

Trichotillomania
Dermatillomania

Fancy and scary words for pulling out your hair and picking at your skin.

Not just a sort of idle, occasional yanking out a hair on you head, or worrying a scab.

This is compulsive, done often with out realizing your doing it and impossible to stop once you start.

Even when you know it's creating problems for yourself. And add to that a peculiar sense of relief, satisfaction and comfort  that results from the action which makes it intensely relaxing. 

Ya, I know, weird right? How can something than often hurts be both intense and relaxing. How can I logically explain this? I can't. Logic doesn't play a role. 

Spock has left the star ship and Kirk is running amuck. 

and I pick.

I pick at the skin on my arms and will keep at it until I am bleeding and covered in scabs. It doesn't help that I can a skin condition:  Keratosis Pilaris, which creates the perfect little bumps for me to pick at. 

At its worst I once had more than 100 scabs on each arm.

It was in winter. I wore long sleeves for weeks.

So how in the hell does this relate to knitting?

Knitting in repetitive. Knitting in Repetitive. Knitting is repetitive. 

And you know what those little OCD voices in someones head like best - repeating things, over and over and over and over. 

Seriously, just typing that was oddly pleasing. 

When my therapist saw my arms - she looked at me and in her very dead pan way of speaking said, "you need to learn how to knit." 

She gave me other suggestions too to help control the picking and encouraged me to look at ways of lessening the skin condition, so there was less to pick at. 

But mostly she said - Knit. 

"Give your hands something to do that isn't destructive."

Cuz that's the thing, isn't it? The more I try to keep my hands still, the more I try to quash whatever anxiety I'm feeling that's making me want to scratch or pick the more control I lose and the more I pick and scratch. 

The more out of control I feel, the more anxious I become and the more I want to pick and scratch. 

My therapist helped me to take control. Control of both my anxiety and the resulting behaviors. 

So I knit. I knit a lot. It give my hands something to do and it give my head the opportunity to think creatively. 

All of the excess energy my brain creates in over thinking things, in being anxious about things I re channel into creativity, expression and art. Something my depression has taken from me in the past. 

Recently a new book about Van Gogh's Mental Illness was been published - it takes a new look at what Vogh suffered during his short life. I haven't read it yet, but we have learned so much about Mental Health in the last few years alone, that reexamining the life of such a troubled artist is worth while. 

I understand the strange tangle that is is creative expression, anxiety, depression, hope and anguish, but I struggle to put those feelings into words. 

So I'm left with the dance, the songs stuck on repeat and my yarn. I knit, so I don't unravel. 

Follow that Goddamn Star

I am a person of Faith. Most people who know me, know this, but saying something like this can be pretty loaded as lots of people carry many preconceived ideas around words like: Faith, Religion, Spirituality. So I tend to tread carefully when using these words. 

For me, I believe in what I do, because I've had experiences through out my life that have led me to these belief's. For me, they are experiences of a higher power, a higher consciousness in the universe. 

As well, these experiences had guided the way that I interact with this Divinity - which is why throughout my life I've followed Christianity, Buddhism, Shamanism and Wicca; which is a long, long, long story and  not a rabbit hole to jump into right now. 

For the purpose of this post, it's helpful to know that I'm currently following the path of Jesus as a Wisdom Teacher and looking to Christian Faith as my way of connecting with the Divine. 

Back at Epiphany (Jan 6) at the church I work at, we made Star Gifts. Epiphany is the celebration of the Magi visiting Jesus in the Manger. They followed a star and gave Jesus gifts: Frankincense, Myrrh, Gold. 

We borrowed an idea from another church to give gifts from the stars to members of the congregation. Each paper star had a word on it. A word that was a gift from the stars/God/Divinity etc... the invitation was to keep this star and this word as something to ponder, meditate with, pray over etc... throughout the year. 

We handed out this stars, with words on them like: Compassion, Laughter, Love, Thoughtfulness, Comfort: all Upside- down so that people didn't pick their words. It was random. 

I took a star. It was blue. I was handing out stars to kids and put mine aside for a moment and didn't look at it. 

*Now we switch gears for a moment*

At the same time I was trying to make a decision about going on a trip to Israel.  I've always wanted to go to Israel. Holy sites aside, so much of Human history comes from that part of the world. The first civilizations, the first cities, the development of agriculture - all of these things began in this part of the world. 

Three of our planets major religions struggle to co-exist in this tiny little land about the same size of Vancouver Island. 

This is a tiny place. 

I don't feel educated enough to make any sort of statements about the conflict that exists between the people in this part of the world. I've never lived in a place with mandatory military service, walls and checkpoints. I've never lived some where that's been bombed, where people walk around with guns, where the religion you are born into directs almost everything about your life. 

I don't know what any of these things are like, and so will not comment on any of it, now. But I want to learn, to experience, and possibly understand a little better what's happening there. 

*Back to Epiphany. * As I've said, It's pretty easy to chalk things up to coincidence and confirmation bias these days. Skepticism can be a healthy thing in these times of fake news and alternative facts. 

I like a little mystery and a little wonder in my life. It makes the world brighter and certainly more interesting. 

So, I flipped over my star - my gift from the divine, my invitation for something to live into for 2017. What did my star say? 

So Ya. I'm going to Israel. I'm following that Star. 

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